


Smudge

by Em_Jaye



Series: The Long Way Around [35]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pregnancy, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: Woody Allen once said, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." With that in mind, Darcy had to wonder if there was anyone who could make God laugh quite like Steve Rogers.June 29, 1976: Congratulations
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Series: The Long Way Around [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1402126
Comments: 76
Kudos: 203





	Smudge

**Author's Note:**

> Took some technological liberties with this one, but big thanks to everyone who chimed in over on tumblr about what was and wasn't possible with mid-70's tech and everyone who had a chat with their parents and saved me from talking to mine. :-D Always love it when you guys come through for me on that one lol.

Steve had been on edge all day. His stomach had been twisted with an unnamable unease and a nervous energy that he hadn’t been able to diffuse. Not that he hadn’t tried, but after a long run, a few hours at the gym, and an afternoon of replacing the rotted fenceposts in the backyard, he had to accept that it just wasn’t going away.

He tried to rationalize his anxiety and remind himself of all the things he _didn’t_ have to worry about. Darcy was fine—safe at work for her usual Tuesday shift. School had been out for two weeks—all of his grades had been turned in and all his end-of-year paperwork had been submitted on time. His job was secure for another year. The bills were all paid. There was food in the fridge. Money in the savings account.

But that didn’t help either and by the time he was driving home from his vets’ group, he was starting to dread nightfall and the long stretch of sleeplessness he could feel looming ahead.

The phone started ringing while he was turning his key in the door. He hurried inside and rushed into the kitchen to swipe it up on the sixth ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve. It’s Toby. Toby Reyes?”

He paused, his hand on the container of Scrabble’s kibble. “Hey, Toby.” Toby—Linda’s husband. The police sergeant. Steve forced himself to open the Tupperware and scoop out a dish of food for the cat. Linda’s cop husband had no reason to be calling him. Unless— “What’s going on?” he made himself ask as he set the dish down and Scrabble came trilling excitedly into the kitchen. His voice sounded casual enough, he decided. It didn’t immediately give away how his every nerve was standing on end.

“I don’t want you to panic,” Toby said. A useless platitude if ever Steve had heard one. Especially when the next words out of his mouth were, “but it’s Darcy.”

He was surprised the phone didn’t shatter with how tightly he gripped it. “What about Darcy?” he asked, his voice still remarkably even. “Is she okay? What’s wrong?”

“She’s okay,” Toby assured him, though Steve did not relax. “A little banged up, but she’s going to be fine. She got mugged,” he went on before any questions could be asked. Questions that would demand he explain how he thought those words lined up with the assessment that she was okay. “On her way to the bus stop—guy stole her purse, knocked her around—”

“What?” he demanded. The panic had left him in a hurry, wanting to clear the way for the white-hot rage. He clenched his jaw. “Where is she right now?”

“She’s here,” Toby said. “Still at the hospital. But Steve, I promise it sounds worse than it is. I’m just waiting for the ER docs to say she’s good so I can get her statement and then—”

“And what about the guy—”

“The guy who did it?” Toby finished for him. “We’re working on that. I’ve got my guys canvassing for additional witnesses. Listen, by the time you get here I’m sure this’ll all be wrapped up and you can take her home, no problem.”

Steve didn’t remember saying goodbye or thanking Toby for calling him. He didn’t remember getting back in the car and driving downtown, but he must have because by the time he realized he’d been moving, he was in the hospital parking garage and his heart was hammering somewhere high in his throat. He raced down the concrete stairwell and nearly plowed into two tired-looking doctors before he made it into the lobby and barked at the nurse sitting at the main desk.

“Emergency room,” he demanded, not caring that her eyes widened in surprise and she recoiled.

“Are you injured, sir?” she asked, getting slowly to her feet. She looked to be about twenty years old and Steve had to grip his panic and anger tightly and remind himself that whatever happened to Darcy had nothing to do with her.

He shook his head. “No. My wife,” he said deliberately. “My wife was brought in earlier—she works here—Darcy Grant?”

The name didn’t spark any recognition, but the young woman nodded and looked immediately sympathetic. “Okay,” she said calmly. “The emergency room is right down the hall,” she motions to the wing to her left. “Do you want me to call and see if she—”

“No,” Steve shook his head quickly, already backing away from the desk. “No, thank you.”

The hospital was bustling, and Steve wasn’t able to run down the corridor like he wanted to. The waiting room of the ER was staffed with two nurses, each in white uniforms and pinned-on white hats. They looked up from their charts as he approached. He took a deep breath. “I need to see Darcy Grant, please?” When they both hesitated, he clenched his fist at his side and added. “I’m her husband. The cops called me—told me she was mugged. Look,” he rushed on, not giving either of them a chance to respond, “if I can’t see her yet, can you at least tell me she’s okay?”

“Oh,” the older of the two blinked. “Of course,” she said kindly before she reached for a clipboard full of notes and messages clipped together. Her fingers flew through the sheaves of paper until she ran a nail down what looked like a list of names. He watched, counting the number of times his heart slammed in his chest—seven—before she frowned. “That’s odd…” she bit her lip and it took all Steve had not to grab her by the shoulders and make her finish her sentence.

The younger nurse scooted over before he could make any further demands and studied the page over her co-worker’s shoulder. “Oh, right, Darcy—she’s a case worker,” she said with a nod before she looked up to Steve. “It says they took her up to the third fl—”

Steve had sprinted toward the stairwell before she said another word. It was mercifully empty and he took the stairs two at a time before he shoved open the door next to a large number three. The door dumped him in the middle of an empty corridor and he found himself glancing left and right and left again before he made a decision and took off to the right, searching for something that would indicate a nurse’s station or main desk.

“Mr. Grant?”

Steve stopped at the sound of a familiar voice and turned to find one of his former students standing in the middle of the hall with a stack of charts in her hand, wearing the same plain white dress and cap as the other nurses. “Jennifer,” he remembered out loud. Jennifer Tucker—2nd period General Art, graduated in ’75, penchant for drawing flowers and hearts on her jeans and canvas tennis shoes in class. “Hi,” it was another struggle to keep his face neutral and force something close to pleasant.

_She’s okay_ , Toby’s words rang in his mind while he tried to remain calm.

_She’s going to be fine._

_It sounds worse than it is._

“How have you been?” he heard himself ask before he could stop himself. Some sort of polite-teacher-override interrupting his mission to get to his wife as fast as possible.

“I’ve been great,” Jennifer said cheerfully. “But who cares about me,” she laughed lightly. “You’re here for Darcy, right?”

Steve blinked. “Yes,” he nodded quickly. “You know Darcy?”

It was Jennifer’s turn to nod. “Oh yeah; I know all the case workers—I just found out you guys were married like, a month ago—”

“Jennifer,” he broke in. “Sorry, but I don’t know if you know what happened—”

“Oh,” her smile dropped away. “Yeah, of course.”

“I haven’t seen her yet,” he reminded, trying not to sound impatient. “I don’t know if she’s…”

“Oh, gosh, Mr. Grant,” Jennifer’s eyes widened. “Sorry, I’m just rambling on. I was just with her while she had her exam. She’s fine,” she said firmly. “They’re both fine—I can take you to her room though,” she jerked her head behind them. “This way.”

Steve let the relief flood him for a moment as he fell into step behind his former student. They’d only made it past a few closed doors before he pieced together what she’d said. “Wait, who was with her?”

“Hmm?” She looked over her shoulder and stopped when he did.

“You said they’re both fine,” he reminded. “Who else was there?”

Her face folded in confusion. “Her and the b—” her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and she placed a hand over her mouth. “Ohmygosh,” she said into her hand. “You don’t…”

The words hung in the air between them while she and Steve stared at one another and he tried very hard to assemble a coherent thought. After what felt like several hours, he finally managed to clear his throat. “Uh, Jennifer?”

Jennifer looked like she was wishing for the floor to swallow her up. Her hand slid from her mouth. “Yes?”

“What, um,” he coughed again. “What does this hospital do, here? On the third floor?”

Her lips pursed and flattened into a straight line. “That’d be um…” she shifted the charts in her arms. “Obstetrics, maternity and pediatrics, Mr. Grant.”

“Right,” he nodded, still mostly at a loss for anything that would sound like words. Because he knew that, actually. He'd been on this floor before. Four months ago, when Tangie's son was born. At last, his brain seized the most relevant piece of information he’d been given and waved it like a flag. “But Darcy—she’s okay, right?” he asked before he repeated what he’d said before, turning over exactly what these words meant now. “They—they’re _both_ okay?”

Some of the mortification had drained away from Jennifer’s face and she offered a meek smile. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Super okay.”

“Super okay,” he repeated faintly. He felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“She’s in room 318,” Jennifer said, pointing behind her. “Just down the hall.” She paused again before she rushed on. “I really am sorry—I figured you knew. I don't know why I thought that—I shouldn’t have. I shouldn't have said anything—”

But Steve was shaking his head. “No, no it’s okay,” he assured her, surprised at how much he meant that. “You didn’t know. And I’m glad you were with her,” he added, “earlier.”

“Oh, yeah,” she shrugged. “That’s my job.” She nodded again and stepped to the side, urging him to go on down the hall without her. But he’d only made it a few yards before she called out again. “Uh, Mr. Grant?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

Jennifer bit her lip before she smiled wider. “Congratulations. You’re—um—you’re going to be a really good dad.”

Steve glanced down at the ground, unable to help his smile now. “Thank you, Jennifer,” he said sincerely before he looked up again. “I appreciate that.”

Darcy was the only one in room 318 by the time he arrived. She was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed and looked up when he pulled open the door. Any thought of smiling dropped away at the sight of her face—red and bruised on the left side—her split bottom lip, the bandage wrapped around her right wrist.

“Hey,” she said weakly, raising her left hand in a wave as he crossed to her.

“Hey,” he breathed back when he was close enough that she reached out to pull him down for a long hug.

“This has been such a shitty day,” she said into his shoulder. Her voice wobbled and he felt her breath hitch as he rubbed her back. “I’ve wanted one of these since ten o’clock this morning.” He waited for her to let go first before he held her at arms’ length and gently tilted her face up to see the extent of her injuries. “Not so pretty, huh?” she asked, as he turned her head to the right to see where the bruising was the worst around her left eye.

“Jesus,” he muttered as all that rage from before came rushing back, twice as strong. “What happened?”

Darcy sniffled and rolled her eyes. “I was stupid,” she mumbled. “I should have just thrown my purse and ran—”

“Darcy, this is not your fault,” he said firmly. “Did you get a good look at him?”

“Yeah,” she sniffed again. “Right before he back-handed me so hard I thought my eye was going to explode.”

Steve clenched his jaw again. “And you already talked to the police?”

She nodded. “Toby was here; I assume that's who called you?" She went on before he could answer. "I don’t know how good my description’s going to be—he looked like one of Charles’ Manson’s littermates. That’s like, thirty percent of the men downtown.” She reached up and put her hands on his forearms. “You’re not going to do anything, right?”

“Anything like what?” he asked, letting his hands rest gently on her shoulders.

“Like becoming a masked vigilante and spending your nights murdering every dude in this town who looks like a grown-out hippie with extra crazy eyes.”

“You’d be mad if I did that?”

“I realize nothing says love like amassing a giant body count in my name,” she began delicately. “But you’re not sneaky. You’d definitely get arrested.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a brief smile as he carefully tucked her hair behind her ear when it slipped into her face. “I have a few compelling reasons to stay out of prison,” he reminded her quietly.

Darcy let out a little sigh and dropped her head. When she looked up again, there was a little sparkle back in her eye. “One of the nurses told you my secret, huh?”

“In her defense, she didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Well in _my_ defense,” her hands drifted from his forearms to his hips and she tucked the edges of her fingers into his front pockets. “I wasn’t a hundred percent sure until today. I told them it might be a possibility when they were fixing me up and they did the test for me.”

“And you’re…” he paused, even though he knew what Jennifer had said, knew what wing of the hospital Darcy had been brought to, he needed to hear someone say it out loud. “You’re a hundred percent sure now?”

She nodded and he felt an unexpected rush sting his nose and eyes. “We’re having a baby, Steve.” His arms folded around her again. He buried his face in her hair and blinked back the tears that had blurred his vision. “This is a good thing,” he heard her say before she pulled back and studied his face. “Right? This is okay?”

He laughed weakly and swiped at his eyes before he leaned in to kiss her forehead, afraid of hurting her split lip any further. “Of course it is,” he promised. “It’s more than okay.” This time when she looked up, her eyes were wet. He caught the tear that slipped down her cheek and pushed it away before it could sting the cut near her mouth. He brushed the backs of his fingers over the side of her face that wasn’t bruised. “But you’re sure everything’s okay?” he asked, unable to let it go until he heard it from her. “After what happened—”

Darcy nodded again. “Yes, I promise,” she said before a slow smile brightened her face again. “They even tried out their new toys on me to be sure.”

“New toys?” he asked with trepidation.

But she chuckled. “A sonogram machine the size of our house that let them check for a heartbeat. I’m only the second person they’ve used it on—everyone was very excited.”

He frowned. “You had a sonogram? Did you get to see…” he trailed off. He didn’t know what there was to see at this stage. He didn’t even know what stage this _was_.

She shook her head. “No, it was just to hear the heartbeat, but,” she shrugged and looked down again, her smile softened. “It’s there. Nice and strong.”

They went home, stopping for dinner on the way, despite that he’d eaten hours before. She took a shower and asked for his help French braiding her hair while it was still wet to keep it out of her face. He wasn’t even close to tired when she pulled back the sheets and blankets and climbed beneath them, but he lay down next to her anyway, keeping his head propped up on one hand.

Darcy looked over at him and gently scratched her long fingernails against his beard. “What haven’t I told you yet?” she asked softly.

He smiled and turned his head to kiss her palm. “Just…any kind of major details or indication of a timeline.”

She pulled a grimace that turned into a giggle. “Oops. Sorry. They’re pretty sure I’m due in January, based on what I told them and a bunch of other…doctory things that they did.”

“January,” he repeated with a slow nod before he said, as an afterthought. “My mom’s birthday was in January.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What day?”

“The eighteenth.”

She hummed in thought. “That’d be nice,” she said softly. “If they could share a birthday.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, trying not to think too hard about his mother. About what she’d say if she knew she was going to be a grandmother. About how he suddenly wished he could tell her.

“I’m hoping it’s January and not the end of December because we have so much other shit going on then—talk about inconvenient,” she added with a smile that told him she’d caught his troubled expression and was trying to make him laugh.

He snorted and shook his head. “We can rearrange our busy schedule if need be,” he promised and kissed her hand again. “But January would be nice.”

Her thumb stroked his cheek again and she tilted her head, studying him. “What else?”

“I never really thought about it—and I didn’t think I’d care,” he admitted, “but I’m kind of…sad there isn’t any kind of…ultrasound or anything.”

Her lips dipped for a moment. “I know,” she nodded. “It’d be nice to have something to see. Although, right now I don’t think there’s too much to see anyway.” Her smile returned. “Best any real sonogram picture could tell us is, ‘Congratulations! You’re having a smudge.’”

Steve laughed. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said without hesitation. 

He still wasn’t tired by the time Darcy’s eyes fluttered closed and her breathing deepened. He reached over and shut the lamp off anyway, letting the room fill with the moonlight filtered through the curtains as he kissed her forehead gently and let his hand rest on her belly.

“And I love _you,_ ” he said, hardly even a whisper in the dark, "little smudge."

Still fast asleep, Darcy let out a soft sigh and covered his hand with hers.

Steve couldn’t remember ever feeling so much in all his life.

**Author's Note:**

> A note about my technological liberties: sonograms and ultrasounds existed but were nowhere near a standard part of prenatal care in 1976 (at least according to everyone I talked to who would definitely know better than me) but most hospitals were starting to get the machines by the mid-70s at least, and use them in special circumstances. Like, for instance, a colleague who'd been mugged and wasn't 100% sure if there was an unborn baby to worry about as well in addition to her other injuries. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Come play with me on tumblr: @idontgettechnology and join me at ishipitpod.com for weekly podcast on fandom and fanfic by yours truly.
> 
> *kisses*  
> <3


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